


Coming Into Focus

by MothmanIzReal



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Mothman (Folklore)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Family Drama, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Wilderness, lamp puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothmanIzReal/pseuds/MothmanIzReal
Summary: Guy Fieri didn't know what he was looking for- he didn't even know he was looking. But when a strange entity enters his life, Guy only knows that his life has been irrevocably changed- hopefully for the better.





	1. The Art of Getting Lost

Guy Fieri didn’t know what he was doing as he soared down the empty highway. The road stretched ahead of him farther than his headlights could illuminate, and he could see only the barest glimpse of the open fields spreading out around him. He knew he should be back at the hotel right now, relaxing after a long day of filming, and getting ready for his daily call back to his wife and children. But he wasn’t familiar with this area yet, had taken a wrong turn at some point.

 

Instead of pulling up google maps on his phone, he had just kept driving.

 

He didn’t know if it was the night air, or the fact that he was alone, or even just the silence, settling over everything like a well-loved blanket, but something about driving tonight was calming him. He loved his life, loved being the personality he had crafted for himself, but he never really got the chance to just sit back and step away from it all.

 

It was that that kept him going, he thought. The foreignness of it all. Guy always heard the sharp, shouted orders of the cameramen, and never the soft rumble of wheels underneath him. His eyes were always fed the piercing stage lights, and never the soft pinpricks of the stars glittering overhead.

 

Beside him, the radio began to buzz with static, and he frowned. He had turned it off so that he could appreciate the silence better, but it seemed to have turned itself back on, the knob twisting itself to a blank space between channels. As he listened, the sound seemed to shift, sounding more and more like squeaking. He reached over to turn it off quickly.

 

Guy felt his car shudder beneath him, and he cursed, the harsh sound cutting through the fragile peace he had been enjoying. He pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, where it stuttered to a halt.

 

Guy pushed his way out of the car and into the night, darker now that his headlights had gone out. He moved his way to the front of the car and pulled up the hood, looking down to investigate the engine.

 

It was a losing battle. He didn’t have a flashlight, and even if he had been able to make out more than the vague outline of the metal glinting in the moonlight, he had never been much of a mechanic anyways. He pulled out his phone. No signal. Great. This night had just gone from a well-needed break to a major annoyance.

 

He lowered the hood again and then pulled himself on top of it. He ran his hand through his jagged frosted tips before leaning back and spreading out, turning his gaze towards the stars. If he just let himself relax, he might be able to recapture that peace from earlier…

 

There was a rustling sound in the field next to him.

 

Guy didn’t let himself turn his head, but his entire body tensed up, the hair on the back of his neck raising. Guy knew he was a fairly tough guy, but he didn’t want to test himself against anyone who was hanging out in a field in the middle of the night. His heart lurched in his chest, and he wanted to throw himself back into his car, but he didn’t trust himself not to make any noise. Besides, even if he did get back into his car, what then? He might not be so exposed, but there was nowhere for him to go.

 

There was another rustling sound, closer than before, accompanied by a squeaking sound that was too similar to the noises his radio was making right before his engine gave out.

 

Guy made a decision. He could to three, slowly.

 

 _One._ Guy made himself focus, his vision narrowing to a single point up in the sky.

 

 _Two._ His muscles clenched, his legs feeling stiff and weak at the same time.

 

 _Three._ The noise sounded again, this time right next to his ear, and he threw himself over to the other side of the car, a strangled gasp escaping his lips. He yanked the door open and threw himself into the driver’s seat, breathing ragged, his trembling fingers slamming into the lock button as soon as the door was closed again.

 

His heart was in his throat as he turned the key, prayers hovering on his tongue, held back by quivering lips. His heart almost stopped in relief as the car began shaking beneath him, the familiar rumble starting up once again. He peeled away from the side of the road, his car making an ugly grinding noise as he yanked the steering wheel around as far as it could go in an effort to turn around swiftly on the narrow road.

 

Guy didn’t let himself stop to think until he was far enough away for his heart to stop trying to leap out of his chest, travelling swiftly down the road that would bring him back to the safety of the hotel. When he finally let himself look into the rearview mirror, he thought he saw a pair of beady red eyes glaring back at him. He didn't stop; he only pressed down harder on the gas and hoped he wouldn't run across any police officers on the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is my first fic on this site. I have no idea what my uploading schedule is going to be like, since this is only really a side project, and I only have a vague idea of where I'm going with it. I hope I'll be able to post another chapter soon! :)


	2. Honey Sweet Days

Guy woke up gasping. He felt knocked off balance. There was something there, just at the edge of his mind- but it was before he could make sense of it.

It was frustrating. He had been having dreams ever since that night on the highway months ago. It had only been every once in a while at first, infrequent enough that he hadn’t been able to differentiate them from the nightmares he sometimes had when he let himself get too stressed. But now it seemed they were happening every night- dreams that left him weak-kneed and out of breath upon awakening, the memory of which hung at the edge of his mind, indecipherable, as if it were a passage written in a foreign language. All he could really make out was the aftertaste of fear that was left in the wake of them.

He rolled over in bed to check the time. 5 AM. Too late for him to want to bother trying to get back to sleep, but early enough that he was sure to feel it later in the day. He wiped a hand across his face in exasperation, but he extracted himself from the blankets and rolled out of the bed, careful not to wake his wife, who was still snoring softly into the pillow next to him.

He hopped into the shower. The water helped, a bit, to wash away his thoughts.

 

The air was warm and heavy around them, and moving through it felt a little bit like moving through honey. But Guy didn’t mind it, not really. It was a beautiful day, and he had his family sitting around him, the four of them all eating barbeque and watermelon. In all honesty, the day out so far had felt like coming up for air after spending too much time underwater.

He felt something squeeze at his hand, and looked down to see his wife’s fingers, sticky from the watermelon, threaded through his own. She smiled at him. “We should probably get going soon,” she told him.

There was a spot of barbeque sauce just to the right of her lips, and he reached over to wipe it away. “Soon,” he promised. “But not yet.”

 

It was nice to be back in the air-conditioned car, even though he had been reluctant to leave the park. Music was spilling softly from the radio. His wife was humming softly along, and he could hear his children snoring softly from the back seat. Guy reached over and placed one hand on his wife’s thigh. Her hand came up to meet his.

The radio crackled slightly as they rattled over a pothole, and Guy frowned slightly. The car was new enough, and they should’ve been well within the range of the radio signal. It cleared up soon enough, though.

“Do you ever miss us?” his wife asked suddenly.

Guy glanced over at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean, you’re gone so often.” The radio let out a loud burst of static that pierced Guy’s ears and made him clutch the steering wheel tightly in pain. His wife didn’t seem to notice. “Sometimes I wonder…”

“I’m gone so much because I have to be,” he reminded her, trying to ignore the pounding that had begun to form behind his eyes. The static was gone again, but the headache it seemed to have brought along didn’t seem to recede at all in the sound’s absence. “It’s my job.”

She let go of his hand to run her fingers through his frosted tips. “No, I know, of course, it’s just…” She shook her head. “Ugh, never mind. It’s stupid, really. And I shouldn’t be saying anything with the kids in the car.”

It was hard to focus around the pain, and his wife’s hand, which had dropped from his hair to play with the lapels of his shirt, weren’t making it much better. And he got the sense that this was the type of conversation that he should really be focusing on.

He opened his mouth to say something- to reassure her, to tell her of course he loved her, something, he didn’t know- but he never got the chance. He saw some sort of vehicle, twice as large as their van, barrel through the intersection in front of them. He felt himself be jerked forward as they collided, felt the airbag explode into his face. Then all he knew was darkness.

 

Something was dripping next to him. Had one of the kids forgotten to turn the sink off all the way again? He couldn’t move his head to look. In fact, his entire body was frozen.

“…awful,” he heard someone say. There were footsteps by his ear. The crunch of glass. “…no way we could…” The voice seemed to fade out again. He couldn’t hear it; his ears were already too full of the ringing that seemed to have taken up residence there.

His mouth tasted like iron and gasoline.

A hand appeared and came to rest against his throat, insistent, searching. _Checking for his pulse_ , a voice at the back of his mind supplied. Or maybe it was the ringing that said that. It had begun to sound less like ringing, and more like voices calling out to him, calling _for_ him.

There was shouting. Not from the voices, but from next to him. He couldn’t make out the words.

The water was still dripping. _Someone turn off the sink_ , he tried to say, but he couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate.

He felt himself slipping back into the darkness, and he let it take him.


End file.
